SelfInfliction
by Mystitat
Summary: Two part Cats fic. Someone's got a secret...Completed
1. part one

**Self-Infliction**

**By Mystitat**

* * *

(Part one of two)

* * *

Wanna hear a secret? 

Promise not to tell?

Hmph. Like I'd tell you. Maybe you'll find out. In due time.

* * *

"Sweety? Darling, wake up!"

I open my eyes to the glare of sunlight in the small den I share with my mate. She's shaking my shoulders gently, trying to wake me up. She has no idea I've been awake for hours, and that I actually only came in and lied down next to her a few minutes ago. I won't tell her, though. She likes to think she gets up long before I do. I won't ruin it for her.

I won't tell her I'm usually gone half the night, doing things she has no idea about.

"Wake up!" she calls playfully, giggling. Looking back, I wonder whyever I chose her for a mate. She's so different than the queens I'm used to. Well, that is, the queens I used to be used to.

I roll over and look up at her, look into her eyes. She smiles that cocky little smile, the one that says, "I know something you don't know." If only she really knew. "Get up now, dearest!" she says again, playfully.

I snarl just as playfully, reach up, and put my arms around her neck, pulling her down to me, snarling happily. "Just five more minutes," I mumble as I run my paws through her pure white fur.

"Ack! Stop it!" she yells through giggles. "You're messing up my fur!"

"That's the point," I say as I let go of her, letting her sit up over me. Still lying down, I say, "If I mess up your fur, you have to groom it again, and then," -I lean forward and give her a little lick on the nose - "I get to help you."

She smiles so sweetly. "Not now," she mumbles, but I'm already up, doing her the favor of grooming her fur. "You can't!" But I can tell she's really enjoying it. "You – oh!" she cries as I groom lower and lower down her back. "Okay! Really, stop!" she says through giggles. She twists around and grabs my cheeks playfully in her weak little paws. "You really have somewhere you need to be!" she says, in the manner that a human would speak to a cute little kitten.

"I do?" I mumble through squished lips.

"Yes you do!" she says in that talking-to-a-kitten fashion again. "Munkustrap's called a meeting of all the tribe's guardians. You have to be there."

"I do?"

"Yes, you do."

"Now?"

"Yes, now."

"Come with me?"

Here, she pouts, and lies back down on the pile of blankets in the den. "I have to get some more beauty sleep," she says vainly through a yawn.

Fair enough. Munkustrap probably wouldn't have allowed her in the meeting anyway.

"Fine," I say. "But I'll be back."

As I emerge into the hot summer sun baking the junkyard, I note that there isn't anyone around. That's not unusual. It's still early in the morning. Most cats like to be asleep at this time of day. No one wants to be about when it's this hot. I idly stroll toward the central clearing, contemplating my position. It's ironic, really, that I'm one of the tribe's guardians (guardians being more of a patrol of strong toms than anything else). It really is. They really trust me. It's just too funny. If only they knew, I wouldn't be in the junkyard anymore, let alone be one of its guardians.

Though if they knew my secret, there would be many things different about my stay in the junkyard, the least of which being that I wouldn't be a guardian. I'd probably be tied up to something. Tied with chains, no less. Only the best for me.

I'm not sure why I have this secret in the first place. It wasn't like I didn't have better choices. There were many other options I could have used to accomplish my purpose at the time. But coming to the junkyard seemed best, for some reason or another. It baffles me to this day. I try to think why I'd want to spend time in an ill-managed, flea-infested, dirty rubbish dump with two many places for an enemy to prepare an ambush.

But then I wonder, "Why not?"

I certainly have found what I needed to know and left. I could have done it in perfect anonymity; I didn't need to introduce myself to the tribe. Come to think of it, I'm surprised that I introduced myself at all back then. It would have been far wiser to the tom that I was to keep myself a secret. Then again, maybe I had wanted to show off the new persona I had created just for this purpose. It was probably too much fun to resist, to fool those silly Jellicles into thinking I was someone I wasn't.

But, thinking upon it now, it's really silly, the double life I lead. I've long since lost any need for contact in the junkyard, but I've kept it up relentlessly. I have a mate and friends here. It's unbelievable, but here I am, doing it. There's no need to. To the perfect analytical mind of my other self, it's pure foolishness. But when I'm like this, as I am now, here, in the junkyard, I just feel a certain sense of belonging and ingenuousness that I never feel in my other occupation.

I could easily go back to being that, and that alone. But I find myself not wanting to. I could give up my other self and live only here in the junkyard, and not have to worry about my mate waking up in the middle of the night and finding me gone, but I can't do that either. They need me too much. If I left that life, the hirarchy there would fall apart completely. Fights, even wars would ensue, and I can't let that happen. Not now. Not when I might have so much to live for.

I turn the corner of a large trash pile and come upon the central clearing. Most of the other toms that make up the tribe's guardians are already assembled, chatting nonchalantly about ordinary things, waiting for the group to be complete. I join them, sitting next to Alonzo.

"How've you been, Plato?" he asks customarily as I sit.

I shrug. "Same old stuff. Not much changes." I stifle a yawn. Not much changes. Yeah, right. Everything changes, on a second's notice. It's only too hard to stay one step ahead of the Jellicles.

He glares at me with a funny look on his face. "Been staying up late?" he asks.

"Yes." As soon as the word escapes my mouth I realize that I probably shouldn't have said that, but it's all right. I can make it work. He'll never find out what I was really doing last night after Victoria had fallen asleep.

Thinking dirty thoughts, Alonzo goes on: "Have you now? You're a luckier tom than I am. Stay kitten-less, that's all I'm saying. They'll be the death of you." He stifles a yawn of his own. "You can't get a wink of sleep when they're in the den with you, let alone have any fun with your bedmate."

I smile at his sleeplessness. "What? I thought I heard you and Jemima were still swinging!"

He glares at me. "Swinging, maybe. Swinging kittens back and forth. I swear, kits will be the death of me!" He throws up his arms in exasperation. "You're lucky Victoria's humans had that ... thing on her."

I roll my eyes. That's none of his business. Especially since he's wrong. "Yeah, whatever," I mumble. Whether I stay kitten-less or not is none of his business.

"Hey, guys!" Munkustrap yells as he calls the meeting to order from atop the biggest tire in the junkyard. "Guys, I really need you to listen up!"

"That's not the only thing you need!" Admetus calls from somewhere in the back. A couple other toms hoot in agreement.

Munkustrap glares. "Thank you for that kind little tidbit. I shall take it into consideration. Now there's something important I've learned in the past few hours, and it is the reason that I've ordered everyone to remain in their dens."

"He ordered us to remain in-den?" I whisper to Alonzo while Munkustrap keeps talking.

"Yeah, didn't you hear?" he answers.

I shake my head and turn my attention back to Munkustrap: "In light of this new development, we will have to double the watch and increase patrol times, and -"

"Just tell us what happened, Straps m'boy!" Skimble calls.

Munkustrap sighs, and lowers his voice. "The body of a cat was found this morning just outside the south gate. Bloody pawprints were found leading into the junkyard, but the trail stopped somewhere on the way to the main clearing. The cat found was no one known by anyone in the junkyard, but I think precautions are now understandable."

The whole clearing erupts into chatter, but I remain silent. I stay quiet not because I am in shock over the poor dead cat, but because I'm amazed that I was so careless as to leave bloody pawprints in the junkyard.

Oh, did I say that out loud?

* * *


	2. part two

(Part two)

* * *

Well, you've probably guessed by now. Yes, it was me who killed the cat, me who left her violated body outside the gate, and me who left pawprints in her blood. (Though the last one was certainly unintentional ... I meant for brother dearest to find her much later today...) If you haven't guessed my true self by now, let me tell you that you must be the most foolish human to ever live, so I simply must tell you.

I am Macavity.

"But wait!" you say. "I thought this was Plato!" And you would be right. I am Plato as well. But I was Macavity first. First and foremost, I should say, though lately I have been wondering. In reality, Plato is simply a persona I created to allow me into the junkyard without raising alarms. It's all done with magic, quite simply, really.

You see, there really is a reason Demeter darling is so paranoid. She may not consciously know it, but I think there is something about a magical tom raping a queen that leaves her with a sense of when he is around; don't ask me to explain it, I've never encountered it with anyone else before. Maybe she is just very sensitive. But she can tell when I change back and forth between forms. Of course, she always cries out, which forces me to either change somewhere else (which I'd rather not do, so that Plato does not become known in the circle of theives I frequent), or to get out of the junkyard very quickly.

Though lately ... I have been wondering. Who am I, really? My most analytical and diabolical self would tell me what I should know to be true: I am Macavity. But then, I look at what I have, what I've found. Evilness ... isn't all it's cracked up to be. Sure, I have henchcats at my beck and call, I have hordes of catnip stored away, and all the cats whose wicked deeds are widely known are nothing more than my agents. But, there's something else in life. Something I miss as the Napoleon of Crime. It's here, in the junkyard. It's right here, and I've found it.

Still, there are aspects of my life of crime I can never give up. Thieving, raping, murdering without consequence ... it's all too irresistible! Why anyone would not want to give into anarchy is beyond me. Whyever worry about doing "the right thing" when you can do whatever you want and get away with it? There's so much out there, just waiting, wanting to be taken! With magic, it's even simpler! There is nothing to stop me, no one that can stop me! The Jellicles are the most foolish cats that ever lived! Taking in others into their tribe? Risking their lives for cats they have never even met! They are fools! They simply ask to be broken!

But you know that's not true, Plato whispers in my head. You know you love living in the junkyard. You enjoy having friends who would risk their lives for yours, just as you would for them. You care about these cats. Moreover, you care for Victoria. You would do anything to protect her.

Foolishness, Macavity yells back. Only a fool would risk his life for another cat! In this world, it's hunt or be hunted, eat or be eaten! You're only fooling yourself to think that you could really _care_ for another cat! You know if you were in danger, you would protect yourself and spare no one!

What in the world have I done to myself?

I'm not crazy, I'm not crazy...

* * *

"Macavity?" 

"What do you want?" I answer, startled and confused.

Alonzo gives me an odd look. "I was just saying, maybe it was Macavity who killed the queen out by the gate. I wan't talking to you." Then he sees that I'm trembling. "Are you all right, Plato?"

I stand up shakily and say, "I need to go." I ignore the protests of Alonzo that I don't look so good and of Munkustrap that I need to stay and listen to the new guard assignments. I just need time alone.

I can't keep this up, I think as I head back across the junkyard to my den. It has to end. Voices battle inside my head. It's crazy. I can't let it continue. I have to choose one life or another.

But by now, I've gotten myself so deeply rooted in both lives that it would be impossible to choose. On one paw, I could give up Macavity and live as Plato, just a normal, unassuming tom, living in a happy little junkyard, without a care in the world, surrounded by friends who love him. But if I did that, the entire hierarchy of the feline criminal world would break down. I'm the only thing that keeps most of those cats from warring and ruining the city top to bottom. They know if they invaded my territory, they would have me to deal with. If I were to suddenly disappear, cats from all over England would move in, and there would be terrible fights, threatening the safety of me and mine even if I gave up crime.

On the other paw, I could go back to how I was before. It would be easy. Simply disappear from the junkyard forever. But I couldn't do that. The fools would search for me, not knowing that the cat they know as Plato does not even exist. I could stage my death, but then what would happen to Victoria? She loves me too much. I couldn't do that to her.

Come on, why not, Macavity asks. She means nothing. Simply one more queen. You've taken so many before. She is no different.

But you love her, Plato says calmly. She is different. You know she means something to you. She's no whore, or prostitute to be taken. She's so innocent!

Innocence is asking to be shattered. There's a real world out here.

But she's not in that world. She lives in a sheltered junkyard.

So what? All the more reason to crack her shell.

"Plato?"

"WHAT?" I cry, startled.

Victoria looks at me with confusion and concern in her eyes. "Is something wrong?"

I moan and put my paws to my temples, trying to soothe a raging headache. I'm so wrapped up in my own mental torture that I don't notice I've arrived inside the den. "Nothing's wrong, Victoria. I –" but I stop. Squinting, I look at her more closely. There's something wrong with her, but I can't quite tell what it is. "Are you all right?" I ask abrubtly.

Her eyes narrow in concern. "No, I'm quite fine. Are you sure you're – " but I cut her off with a wave of my paw. There is definitely something wrong with her, maybe something she doesn't know about...

Utilizing years of practice, I draw on my power to change only Plato's eyes into those of Macavity. His magical vision is so much better than Plato's, and Victoria won't notice something so simple as a change in my eye color. I blink as the tiny bit of magic in all things comes into focus. Then I turn to gaze at Victoria.

I draw my next breath sharply. Her aura, normally a swirly magenta to my magical vision, is interrupted by two new ginger-colored swirls, focused around her midsection.

She's carrying my kittens.

* * *

It can't go on! It can't go on, I mentally scream at myself as I almost fly out the entrance to the den, ignoring Victoria's protests. It's gone on far too long! Now look what you've done! She's going to have your kittens, and you can't even stay in the junkyard half the time to raise them. They'll find out! Kittens make you keep long hours. And you won't be able to stay in the junkyard all the time! She'll find out! Your kittens will find out! You can't let them know! You're not good enough for them! You can't give them everything they need! You have a whole other life to live! 

Who cares what kittens need? Since when have you cared for anyone but yourself!

What about what Victoria needs? Does she need kittens? Moreover, does she need kittens who would take after you! They'll torture her to no end when you're gone.

Good! It'll wake her up to the real world. She'll need a little wake-up call once you're gone!

I trip running, started by the realization of what both my inner mental torturers have agreed upon. I have to leave. I can't stay in the junkyard. There's no way I can keep up the facade here and still keep relative peace in the criminal world. And I can't keep leaving in the middle of the night for much longer; she'll find out once she starts waking up in the middle of the night to tend to kittens! My enemies would love to know I have kittens. They'd use them to try to get to me!

How could your enemies possibly find out you have kittens!

They will! They already suspect you do something suspicious during the day! You know that's why that queen followed you to the junkyard gate! You had to kill her because she would have brought back information to her master about where you were. They already know something is up! It's only a matter of time before they discover your kittens! You have to go! What's more, if you stay in the junkyard, the empire will crumble, and London will be reduced to rubble. Then what will happen to Victoria then? You can't let that happen to her! Not when she has so much to live for.

But there's still something that screams at me for deciding this way. Who cares about Victoria? Macavity screams at me. You need to leave the junkyard for yourself. Victoria is worthless. You should have never taken her as a mate. You should have simply taken her!

I writhe on the ground as voices argue in my head. I don't know who I am anymore! There are two completely different cats inside me, each arguing for his own way. What have I done to myself?

I'm not crazy, I'm not crazy...

Then again ... there is always compromise.

* * *

_One month later_

"Victoria?" I whisper as I slowly open the door to her cell.

She moans as she lies on the ground on the other side of the room, her belly swollen with my kittens. She opens her eyes slowly and sees me. "Plato? Is that you?" she croaks.

I scamper to her side and nuzzle her cheek. "Don't worry, everything's going to be all right," I whisper.

She nuzzles back, though weakened by her stay in my headquarters. "Plato! It's been so long since I've seen you! Are you going to be able to get me out of here?" she asks.

I shake my head. "The other Jellicles gave up long ago. They were sure you'd been killed. They wouldn't even let me out to try to find you. And Macavity won't let you go now. He has you."

Well, it is true.

_end_


End file.
